


Snippets and Stuff

by SoaringJe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Kim Possible (Cartoon), Original Work, Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Bellamione Cult Discord Game, Bellamione discord, Discord: Bellamione Cult, F/F, Gen, One Shot Collection, kind of, not all bellamione though, some get/will be continued
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2019-08-28 08:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 13,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16719969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoaringJe/pseuds/SoaringJe
Summary: A collection of my things that were written for/inspired by the Bellamione discord.Rated T for language





	1. world

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpokenOutcast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpokenOutcast/gifts).



> Many of these are one-shots. Some may not stay that way. Lemme know which y'all liked, and it just might help persuade me to write more.
> 
> Permalink to server: https://discord.gg/PUNK9Hk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter. Bellamione. Modern AU?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homework: Write a story about two people on opposite sides of the world. Provide perspective from both.
> 
>    
>  **Written: 21Oct2018**

What a peculiar sight she made: slouched over on a stool with one hand holding her head aloft and the other white with how tightly it held a phone. The blonde woman, who had paused in the doorway to take this scene in, rounded behind the slouched figure, peering over her shoulder and through her wild mane of black curls. "What're you—are you using that messaging app? The one I asked you to convince Draco  _ not _ to use?" Her voice was already a touch resigned as she asked.   
  
The brunette's death grip loosened as the blonde spoke though she didn't deign to look up. "How am I supposed to make a convincing argument if I hadn't tried it myself?"   
  
"That's..." words failed her as they often did when her eldest sister was involved. "Wait," Narcissa began, "Bella, please don't tell me you did that with dru—"   
  
**Her phone buzzed.** **  
**  
Not that she could hear it; the music was far too loud for that, and if it  _ hadn't _ been, then the intermittent cheers from the next room over as  _ something _ 'good' happened would have sufficed.   
  
It was loud; but outside was blisteringly cold, and Hermione hadn't yet met a din so loud that she couldn't think.   
  
So she sat and she thought and she read and she fumed.  _ Who the hell did this— _ __  
  
"You don't look like you're having much fun," observed a voice, interrupting her increasingly-impolite thoughts. He may have been half-shouting to be heard, but she recognized his voice anywhere.   
  
She looked up with a smile, his face coming as no surprise. "Harry!" She stood to give him a hug, not having seen him in a while. The music lowered. His hugs were as warm as ever. She leaned back, her hands on his shoulders and questions pouring out before she could meet his eyes, "How have you been? Have you been eating enough?"   
  
He laughed, reassuring her that he had been eating three meals a day and that he's been, "Probably less stressed than you've been, from what I've heard." His green eyes glittered with concern, and her spine bent slightly as if a weight had landed upon her shoulders   
  
"Probably," she agreed quietly, no longer sure if she was glad for the quieter music.   
  
"Do you want to talk about it?" her head was already shaking, "Or a drink?" He tried, joking, "Even you can't find this party all that fun sober."   
  
She laughed, just once. "Why thank you, Mr. Potter, but Ron and I drove here and—"   
  
They were interrupted by a roar of cheers and a voice crowing, "I did it!" They both recognized that voice, and the slurring in it.   
  
"Ah," was all Harry could say, his smile turning a bit chagrined.   
  
"Indeed."   
  
"That doesn't explain why you looked like you wanted to set your phone on fire though," Harry pointed out. Hermione flushed at the reminder of how furious she had been a few minutes ago—some combination of embarrassment and rekindled outrage.   
  
"Uh oh," Harry said.   
  
Hermione knew he knew what was going to happen. She also knew he would actually listen to her, so she let it.   


* * *

  
Bellatrix was frowning.    
  
"Bella, stop pouting."   
  
She was  _ frowning _ and tapping her nails against the counter with her knee bouncing restlessly—until one of Narcissa's hand rested upon it, her other still holding her morning cup of tea. Bellatrix turned her glare onto her sister.   
  
Narcissa sighed. "Now what has you so upset?"   
  
"She's not responding," came the answer perhaps too quickly, as one of Cissy's eyebrows arched. Questions danced in blue eyes, and there was a clink as Bella laid her phone down on the counter. "Some random girl taking a course similar to one of Draco's," Bella answered preemptively, waving her hand carelessly. "We were having a..." her hand curled into a fist, " _spirited_ discussion. And she just, stopped. Responding!"    
  
Narcissa said nothing. Bella could feel her eyes on her though, and the damn questions swirling behind them.   
  
She suffered under her sister's scrutiny for a moment before admitting, "I thought she had more fire than that." Narcissa shifted. Even  _ Bellatrix _ was surprised at herself: she didn't think disappointment was a thing she was capable of feeling. Not anymore.   
  


* * *

  
"Are you going to respond?" Harry asked after her rant had finally wound down. She hesitated. Which she didn't often use to do, but the years had taken its toll on her.   
  
_ Was this a battle worth fighting? _ she mused. Harry hesitated to leave her as his phone began to ring: it was Ginny's ringtone.   
  
Hermione smiled and shooed him off. He had looked so eager, and rightfully so. Harry and Ginny clicked in a way few people ever did. Her phone buzzed.   _ Wha—she texted again?  _ That was unexpected.    
  
Hermione read the message. And it was as equal parts incendiary and insightful as its predecessors had been; but she had already made her point, so why had she messaged  _again_.  
  
Hermione began to type as a thought meandered through her mind,  _ Was this even a battle? _ __  
__  
  



	2. fragments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original. Gen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Spend the next fifteen minutes writing something that effectively uses fractured sentences
> 
> **Written: 22Oct2018 in the wee hours of the mornin'**

How _dare_ they. _Stupid,_ her fist thumped against the wood. _Fucking,_ her knee blunted against the side. _Ignorant._ This time her elbow. _Goddamn. Hypocrites._ She stood and ignored the pulses of pain. Her blood pounded. Her heart. Ba-dump. Ba...dump. She. Couldn't. Breathe.

She exhaled. And it was. Still.

She hated it. She _hated_ every fucked up piece of hypocritical self-serving bull—

She exhaled. She shook. 

Her hand. Blood dripped. Her knee. Twinged as the wind blew. Her elbow. Shouldn't be moved.

She. She didn't know. Didn't know what to do. Didn't know how to make shit _better_. Didn't even _know._ How to not make shit _worse._ Fucked. How utterly. Fucked. 

She didn't know if she meant the world or herself.

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original notes: i kinda went overkill—like went against my natural instinct and turned a few into fractured when they weren't originally
> 
> Edited: 23Nov2018 to fix some of that


	3. monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter (somewhat crossed with Claymore). Bellamione.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homework prompt: Monsters
> 
> prof. buggy: "You’re gonna have the prompt of monsters like everyone else but because you’ve already got fractured sentences and transitions down pact, I want you to write from one perspective and I suggest doing it in first person. Brownie points if it’s first person present."
> 
> **submitted: 27Oct2018**  
>   
> 
> **Edited: 04Dec2018**  
>   

I hear cries—whimpers, really—fill the air from the lone crib in the room. The moonlight casts its shadow on a carpet whose cream color darkens, ruined as the stain spreads. I try to ignore the smell.

Inside the crib is a child, no older than an infant, its face scrunched up and flushed. _Does it know?_ I wonder. They’re instinctual, this young, this innocent. Does it know its mother is dead? I don’t need to look at her cooling body to remember. What’s left of it anyway.

I put that out of mind.

I have a choice.

This baby is alive. Its parents are dead: one is unaccounted for with a dead demon in its place; the other has been torn apart by said demon. The townspeople will know—think they know: effectively the same thing—that the baby spent significant time around the demon.

They do not allow that.

My hand raises; I sight down my weapon—there’s a soft _fwip_ and then nothing at all.

I leave the house with three corpses.

It’s quiet uptown.

Did I really have a choice?

* * *

I’m not even halfway to base when my heart jackrabbits.

“Why,” a voice lilts, shattering the silence, “is that a _mudbaby_ I see?” An overwhelming pressure accompanies the voice’s saccharine delight. I refuse to let my knees buckle or my shoulders bow. “So far away from pests,” goosebumps raise on my arms, “what a present for _me_ ,” malice laces the last word.

I _don’t_ tense and reach for my weapon. I breathe, evenly and deeply, and _slowly_ turn towards the voice.

“Hello, Bellatrix,” I greet politely, my eyes focused vaguely in the direction of the black-haired woman. If she even qualifies as one.

Bellatrix “the Tempest”: former Ranked Number One of the organization that had _created_ these ‘warriors’—of which I _am_ one, though the organization had fallen by the time my abilities had matured.

Bellatrix is _not_ a warrior; she hasn’t been for over a decade. _She_ is what all warriors constantly fight to _not_ be. We dance precariously on the line between demon and human, having sacrificed our claim to the latter for the strength to fight the former. Draw too deeply on that power or lose sight of our human heart, and we’re _permanently_ lost, becoming that which we had sworn to fight.

But these former warriors are a class all their own. There _is_ no _fighting_ them—not alone and probably not without _several_ single-digits, depending on how strong they were as warriors—and with a former Ranked Number One? There is only _surviving_.

“Aw, muddie,” simpers the woman-shaped monster. “It’s been so _long_ , and _that’s_ the greeting I get?” In a blink she is a few feet away.

I, frankly, don’t know how I’ve survived so long.

“I almost feel _hurt_.” Only my weapon stops her hand from gouging out my eye. I feel my arms shake under the strain, even with the burn of demonic energy as it courses through them. “A bit slow today, aren’t we, muddie?” she asks, tutting.

Her hand drops. I don’t lower my weapon far, as ready as I _can_ be for whatever she does next. She waits.

“My apologies,” I try to say sincerely.

She laughs, and outrage warms my veins where fear had frozen them. I try to swallow my pride. She notices.

“Oh?” Her eyebrow arches, and I stop myself from meeting her gaze. “Is muddie in a bad mood?”

I tense as some instinct of mine blares.

“Mudbaby didn’t _like_ killing a baby?”

Cold. My mind blanks, buried under a blanket of white, frigid snow. _How does she kno—_ I cut the thought off. That won’t help.

“You get all pissy at _me,”_ _once_ in our first meeting, “for torturing a _few_ people,” several _towns’_ worth, “to insanity,” most ended up _dying_ because they couldn’t care for themselves anymore, “but _you_ can go murder—”  
  
_Steam_. “That’s not how it is and you know it,” falls out in a rush. I try and steady my breathing. Anger, raging anger, could get me killed.

“‘That’s not how it is’,” Bellatrix mocks, her voice a facsimile of a child. “Don’t be delusional, muddie,” she snarls a barely-polite distance away from my face. She disappears. “It’s not a flattering look on you,” comes her voice from behind me. I further loosen the chains on my demonic energy, feeling it burn in my eyes and limbs as I turn. She _moves_ , just slowly enough that I can see her blurring away.

I don’t even twitch as her voice comes from somewhere to my left, “What happened to your _fervent_ belief that innocents shouldn’t be harmed?” I bite my tongue _hard,_ clamping down on my demonic core as it flares but otherwise keeping completely still.

I breathe. I _refuse_ to let her run me around.

“Oh, I know!” I tense; she sounds _happy_. “Did muddie not _trust_ that the humans would be _benevolent_ and _forgiving_ ,” why does she _remember_ that, those words I had spouted so long ago, “and _wouldn’t_ spare a baby the punishment they’re _all_ too fond of: running them out of town or horrible murder?”

I wish I had some rebuttal. I wish that that _hadn’t_ been my _exact_ thought process. I wish she wasn’t—

“You’re learning; aren’t you, muddie?” I jerk my weapon up and to the left. It doesn’t move. Her hand rests on it.

I _could_ try and draw on more of my demonic energy, though I am already operating at the upper end of what I can safely manage. Do I risk my sense of self, everything that makes me _me_ , for a _chance_ in a fight against this force of nature?

I’m trapped. I meet her eyes and see that damnable cinnamon swirl in her otherwise black iris. Bellatrix continues, “Learning that I was right all along,” her voice drops in pitch and volume. She doesn’t _need_ to talk louder. “Demons aren’t the only monsters in this world,” her pupils almost swallow the light brown color, but it persists. “ _Humans_ are too; their monsters lurk beneath their skins and behind closed doors or pretty lies—they convince themselves that they’re not _wrong_ or _monstrous_ ,” her voice lilts as if in song, prancing along ‘wrong’ and ‘monstrous’ as if they were flowers in a field, making her next words and their harsh tone all the more jarring, “or they _just don’t care—_ ” her words claw out from her chest, rattling my bones; _now_ it is all too easy to remember she’s a monster, “so _why_ do you _protect them?”_

“They are _not_ ,” I can’t help but protest harshly. Being trapped like this, there’s nothing to distract me from her words; and, perhaps, a part of me _wanted_ to have this discussion with her. A burned stake, a pile of boulders, a bubbling lake, a still baby—these images flash across my mind. “Not all of them.” Why did I protect them? “They’re not all monsters,” I _know_ they’re not—not Elise and Serana and Tom and Father Duncan, so—”protecting them is the right thing to do.”

She sounds human once more. “And the murderer in Evansville you _protected_ from a demon?” I _thought_ I had smelled something from his basement, but—“He killed three more before he was caught, muddie,” she leans in, “was protecting _him_ ‘the _right thing_ ’?”

 _Three_ more? My heart pangs, still bodies trying to crowd my mind; but I focus. “Yes.” Bellatrix’s lips pull back, her teeth shining in the moonlight. “Yes, it was still the right thing to do: I did not _force him_ to continue his crimes; I just gave him the chance—”

“A chance he wouldn’t have had—”

“ _Everyone_ deserves a chance!”

She stills. Did I surprise her? Her eyes hood once more. “You can’t possibly believe that, muddie.”

Would it _kill_ her to not be so condescending? “A serial murderer isn’t the best example—” she scoffs, “but that isn’t my choice to make! He should have at least stood trial, and—”

“You think the law is always right?” She is caught between laughter and scorn, “Or that the way the law is _enforced_ is always right?”

“No!” Would she _quit looking down on me!_ “But we’re _trying_ , and we’re not perfect, and some of us may be better off dead but that’s _not_ for me to decide, and I _won’t stop trying to do what’s right_!” Bellatrix’s eyes widen. Did I just shout?

The air is still.

Oh, fuck. This is how I die. Here lies Hermione Granger. Dead from mouthing off—

Bellatrix blurs a pace away and laughs: full-on, belly-aching laughter with her head thrown back and everything. I don’t know—or really care—why she’s laughing, but anger joins my demonic energy in its burning. My fingers whiten around my weapon.

“Oh, muddie,” she says as she catches her breath. Her teeth gleam. “So you still have that fire in you after all.” Her eyes…I can’t place the emotion in them, but my anger starts to cool, giving way to—“I _can’t wait_ to see the monster you’ll become.”

A chill races down my spine; my body burns with demonic energy.

Bellatrix disappears. I wait, slowly drawing energy back into my core, priming it to explode back out if this is a ploy.

I wait with senses heightened and the moon shining down.

It's quiet. Until it's not.

I relax, swallowing as my eyes track a bunny scampering across the field. My throat’s dry; _all_ my muscles ache, and my head’s pounding.

Bellatrix is gone, but her eyes, her voice...the _certainty_ in them...I am haunted.

I remember their cries.

I remember how they were cut short.

What made her so sure that I wasn’t one already?

 

~~_Forgiveness. Can you imagine?_ ~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah so this was a fusion with Claymore. I'm not familiar with the source material—only know it bc of a quest i follow—and left a lot of stuff ambiguous.
> 
> also snuck in a musical thing because that was the challenge at the time and #TeamDivinity


	4. poem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **27Oct2018**
> 
> 10-minute poem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prof. buggy: "okay so is that what we're doing now  
> " **writing poems?** "
> 
> me: ">.>  
> "is it  
> "are we"
> 
> prof. buggy: "sure go write some crazy ass poem and be back here in 10"

> Fuck you  
>  Perhaps that was uncalled for  
>  But, you’ve got me doing not what I’d like to do  
>  Congratulations, you’ve turned writing into a chore  
>  So, yeah, fuck you
> 
> Oh, sure I had a choice  
>  I could have just hidden away  
>  Let there be reactions instead of my voice  
>  But today’s not that day 

> So here I am with spite  
>  Typing this shit up  
>  Write, write, write  
>  i give up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original notes: i'm a little shit. hi


	5. Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter. Established Bellamione.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Halloween
> 
> #TeamDivinity
> 
> **Written: 31Oct2018**

Bellatrix wonders if she knows. 

She keeps her breathing slow and deep as Hermione bustles about their room in the early morning. She hears her leave. 

She waits.

Several minutes later, she arises like the dead. 

For the most part, their lives are intertwined surprisingly well, considering their first meeting and vastly-disparate backgrounds; but there are a few days out of the year where they don’t. 

Perhaps Hermione had planned, had hoped, that if she left early enough, Bellatrix, who is notoriously opposed to early-mornings, would still be asleep when she left.

Bellatrix has always been terrible for her plans.

So she pretends to be asleep as she leaves, and after, lits from bed to haunt their home alone.

How fitting.

It’s quiet.

She suffers the silence.

Bellatrix lights a pair of candles. They burn fierce and bright. For a short time. 

One goes out in a gust; the other wavers, but still it burns. 

Until it doesn’t.

She lights two more. Strong and steady, she uses their flame to light a third, a tiny little candle.

She starves the pair, their flames sputtering and dimming as they run out of fuel, strangled of breath.

She can hear their screams.

The flames die.

* * *

Hermione comes back in the evening. 

Bellatrix doesn’t ask how it went; Hermione doesn’t ask what she did while she was gone. Neither offer an explanation.

Hermione wears a ridiculous costume and holds a bucket of candy, ready to be dispensed to the incessant doorbell-ringing Muggle children. Bellatrix already has chocolate on her breath as she lounges in the robes of a witch.

The outside and atrium of their home are already decorated, courtesy of Bellatrix after Hermione veto’ed parts of her original design.

None of the lights are green.

“Come on, Bella!”

Hermione stretches out her hand.

Bellatrix wonders if she knows.

Their hands clasp.

“Happy Halloween.”


	6. If Hermione was born...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter. Bellamione.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by Buggy's fic "Just One More Time"
> 
> **Written: 31Oct2018**

It’s taking too long.

“What bloody letter are we on, anyway?” She asks, heavily-lidded eyes nearly closed in boredom.

“G, Black,” answers a smooth voice. Bellatrix doesn’t need to look to know it was Malfoy.

“Which family is she from?” The ‘she’ in question being the little firstie sitting atop a stool with the Sorting Hat plopped on her head. 

“None,” spits one of the older boys. “Filthy mudblood.”

 _Interesting._ “How much longer till it’s _officially,_ ” her voice lilts mockingly, “a hatstall?” 

“50 seconds.” There’s a snap as a pocketwatch closes. Half-blood. The watch is the last thing he has to remember his late father. She’s supposed to target it should he earn her, or her family’s, ire.

“GRYFFINDOR!”

“Of course she’s a stupid lion,” scoffs someone further down the table. They would have said something regardless of her house. Ravenclaw? ‘Of course she’s an airheaded claw.’ Hufflepuff? ‘Of course she’s a no-talent puff.’ The only house that would have garnered a significantly different response is their own; and that response would have been the quiet plotting of her doom.

The little muddie meets her gaze as McGonagall lifts the hat. Bellatrix’s lips curl into a sneer, her heavily-lidded eyes haughty. The firstie doesn’t shrink away.

_Interesting._

The claps and cheers of Gryffindor beckon her, and so the lion scurries away to the opposite side of the hall. Bellatrix’s eyes don’t follow her. But her thoughts... _Now what house could you have been in?_

* * *

She hears about the muddie in passing—”Bloody know-it-all”, “Teacher’s pet”, “Mudblood doesn’t know her place”—but it’s not until Slytherin loses their lead that Bellatrix is part of a proper discussion about the firstie.

“It’s because she _always_ answers the questions right and is usually one of the first to _cast_ right too!” Bellatrix spins her wand idly, lounging on a chair as her fellow Prefect attentively sits facing the two firsties.

_Would she be blue?_

“And so you tried to get her to stop doing that,” her yearmate not-quite asks. An ebony eyebrow raises. So _that’s_ how they lost those points.

The young snakes sputter, until Bellatrix’s wand stops and her feet plant themselves on the ground. “So you failed,” she almost coos. Her yearmate leans back. The little ones pale as her smile grows.

She points her wand.

And idly wonders if perhaps she would have been green.

* * *

The next time the little muddie comes up, Bellatrix can’t afford to _not_ pay attention, because she came up in the same breath as her sister. 

“Figures a Black would come up with that!” crows one of the younger snakes. They interpreted it well, a pureblood pairing up with a muggleborn. They think she only did it so that the Professor would have to award them _both_ points.

Bellatrix goes hunting.

“Excuse me,” her voice is saccharine. Abruptly the amiable group stills; she catches a pair of shoulders sagging. “I would like a _word_ with my sister.” They stare at her wide-eyed. “ _In private,_ ” she hisses. They _finally_ move then.

Andromeda sighs; Bellatrix scowls.

“I know—”

Bellatrix doesn’t let her. “What were you _thinking!?_ ”

Andromeda swells up, her voice cultured and precise like a proper pureblood. “Gryffindor was pulling too far ahead, so I partnered with her—”

“What were you _actually_ thinking, Andy?” Bellatrix isn’t as angry as she is _tired_. Merlin save her from her family.

Andromeda wilts, suddenly more human and real and _Andy_. “I…” she rubs at her arm, “she reminds me of you.”

Bellatrix’s entire body stills sans her hand. Her wand flicks, almost twitches, sparks shooting out sporadically as she shakes.

“Did you just compare the _eldest daughter_ of the _Most Ancient_ and _Noble_ House of _Black_ to a _muggleborn?!_ ” Andromeda pales.

There is a beat of silence.

“I forgot to cast the silencing spell,” she admits sheepishly.

Bellatrix relaxes as her myriad of spells settle over them. “And the proximity-detector and the Animagus deterrent—”

“I still say that’s paranoid—”

“Better paranoid and safe than—”

“Yes, yes, I _know_ , Bella,” Andy waves her off.

“If you _know_ , then why didn’t you _cast_ them?” she mocks. Andy gives her a flat stare. Bella pouts for a moment before resuming their previous topic, “So you were serious then?”

“As serious as our cousin,” Andy jokes. Bella just about rolls her eyes out of her head. “But, yes, she _does_ remind me of you, and that’s…” Bella looks at her, mane wild and eyes piercing as magic hangs heavy in the air. “Rare.”

Bellatrix won’t admit that she’s intrigued.

Not even as she ambushes the muddie during her Prefect Patrol.

Bellatrix silences her before she can utter a sound. 

“Let’s have a little chat...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rushed this before the war ended


	7. library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter. Bellamione.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **idea gained: 27Oct2018**  
>     
>  **fleshed out: 31Oct2018**
> 
> me: "dad, idk what to write. help"
> 
> Dad: "well, hermione is a fan of books right?  
> "and where are there a lot of books?"
> 
> "i haven't been to a library for books in so long tho"
> 
> "where could she meet someone else with an interest in books."
> 
> "ooh i got an idea tho"
> 
> "good grab it"
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
> me: "@Buggy fck you i just got an idea in first person"
> 
> buggy: "HAH"
> 
>  
> 
> _ended up writing it in second_

You’re not  _ quite  _ sure how you came to be in this situation. And yes, you’ll admit that you can get fairly  _ immersed _ in reading, and that your body can go about on auto-pilot fairly well; but this is...a bit different.

You had been reading, that much you can readily establish. Mrs. Weasley had asked you and your friends to pick up a few things when she heard that you were going out to pick up a book that was recently released. So your trio had finished most of the shopping when you passed by this library, wherein you haggled with your friends to meet up in 10 minutes, as you just had to look around in here.

So you were reading a book.

Everything was normal.

Until someone yanked the book out of your hand.

“He—” you don’t even get to finish uttering your outrage before a hand is atop your mouth. You catch a glimpse of black curls and pale skin before a foot hooks around your ankle, sending you toppling forward. You barely catch yourself in time, your hands thudding against the shelves.

You thank Merlin that this particular shelf is against the wall, and hope you didn’t knock over any books. You don’t realize the hand is gone until arms wrap around your waist and pull you close.  _ Very  _ close.

Oh.

There’s a person between you and the shelf, and—with how close you two stand—not much else. She’s warm, and you don’t even have to look at her to know that she’s a woman; she’s rather well-endowed. And you can feel her breathing against you.

Your face flushes.

Her black eyes peer out from under heavy lids, her skin ivory with cheekbones chiseled from marble. She tilts your head down, her hand sifting through your hair, a warm firm presence; your forehead rests upon hers and your eyes—was she wearing a  _ corset _ ?

“Shh…” she husks, your hair falling around you two like a curtain.

A hand slips under your top. Your breath hitches.

You can almost taste the chocolate on her breath.

It feels like an eternity comes and goes with her between your arms.

And then she’s gone, slipping out as quickly and smoothly as she had maneuvered the two of you  _ into  _ that position.

She brushes down her skirt as she chuckles. “He’s such a prude,” you think she mutters.

“I...what?” That was not coherent. You are not coherent. You are also still propped up against the shelf.

You straighten and try to get your blood to  _ not your face or down there _ . 

She looks up as if she had forgotten you were even there. “Oh?” her lips purse and  _ stop staring at her lips_. Your eyes jerk back up to hers. 

She smirks.

And you’re abruptly furious. “How dare you—”

She covers your mouth once more.  _ How is she so fast?! _ “Ah, ah,” she tsks quietly. “This is a  _ library _ ,” she coos mockingly, her lips brushing against your ear. She steps back, releasing you physically. She presses two books into your hands. One of them is the one you were reading and the other…

Yeah, the blood is not leaving your face anytime soon.

She smirks. “I think you’ll enjoy that.”

  
She leaves as abruptly as she arrived.

It takes a while for your brain to reboot.

You stagger to the check-out desk in a haze.

“What kind of books do you  _ read, _ ‘Mione, that it takes you  _ that long _ to find them?”

You startle, realizing Harry and Ron are both standing near the desk. “Shut  _ up _ , Ron,” you snap, still flustered.

Harry meets your gaze, green eyes swimming with concern. “Are you alright, Hermione?” Sometimes Harry can be  _ too _ perceptive. You glance back at the clerk, and thank Merlin that he doesn’t pay much attention to the book titles. You try not to grab them too quickly.

“Didn’t Mrs. Weasley want us back in 30 minutes?” you evade clumsily, averting your eyes.

Ron doesn’t seem to notice. “Oh bloody hell; if you hadn’t  _ taken  _ so long—”

You are already almost out the door. “Less griping, more walking.”


	8. slam poem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original/Life. Poem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homework: Write a slam poem but format as a paragraph
> 
> (no one formatted it as a paragraph 😅)
> 
>  
> 
> **Written: 03Nov2018**
> 
> this is shit. i can't anger
> 
> also, warning: brings up guns and rampage shooters; not-explicit

> Look around, look around  
>  At what is made and how it’s used  
>  A new invention is found  
>  But its intention is just a ruse
> 
> The cotton gin backfired  
>  Language was invented, but  
>  Communication is mired  
>  We’re unknowingly stuck in a rut
> 
> Do you realize  
>  What we leave unsaid  
>  Leads us to lies  
>  False conclusions we’re fed
> 
> Look around, look around  
>  Rampage shooters being white males  
>  Is not a reason the media found  
>  We’re stuck on the gun debate rails
> 
> We’re stuck below the dominant group  
>  Leaving them out of discussion  
>  Stuck in this feedback loop  
>  Let’s go blame the Russians


	9. dialogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original. Gen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Go write using dialogue tags for 10 mins"
> 
> **Written: 03Nov2018**

"It's sad isn't it," she seemed to wonder aloud.

"I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific," materialized first the voice then its speaker.

She chuckled darkly. "I suppose you're right," she conceded, not without sadness and perhaps...

"Oh?" lilted the newcomer, "has perhaps even _your_ boundless faith and optimism—"

"Wavered?" she interjected tiredly, before raising and lowering a shoulder, "I suppose."

"Hm," the intruder hummed, hand raising to brush strands away from her face. "A pity, then."

Her lip curled. "Don't you mean 'a disappointment'?"

The interloper laughed just the once before disappearing in a reversal of how they appeared. "Aren't we all?"


	10. three-person dialogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter. Bellamione?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **03Nov2018**
> 
> me: "are we gonna write a ~~threesome three-way~~ three-person dialogue?"
> 
> buggy: "Yes
> 
> "Everyone go spend 15 minutes writing a threesome"

He just had one thing to say. "'Mione, what the fuck!?"

"Language—"

"Bella, shut up."

She pouted.

"What, you have her _trained_?!"

Hermione grabbed her wrist. "Bellatrix, no."

"How about a _little_ dismemberment?"

He was speechless.

"How can you have a _little_ dismemb—" Hermione shook her head. "No."

"Is he going to say anything _useful_ —"

"The hell do you mean 'useful'?!"

Hermione considered pinching the bridge of her nose. "Bella, stop antagonizing him; Ron, can you _try_ to calm down?"

"Why do I get ordered but he—"

"'Calm down'?!" That shade of red was not the face of calm.

"Rude," commented Bellatrix.

"Bella..."

"Oh bloody hell, should I just _leave_ then—"

"No!" chorused two. Hermione knew _her_ reasons for not wanting to be alone with Ron, but...

"Why would I let the _#1 Most Wanted_ just walk away?" he protested hotly.

"I'm flattered."

"Maybe we should discuss this over tea." It was not a suggestion.

Bellatrix shrugged; Ron tugged at his magical bindings.

Hermione clapped. "Great!"

Now if only any of them actually believed that. 

* * *

"You have got to be _joking_."

"'Mione, this is the only—"

"Oh, don't you 'Mione' me, Harry Potter!"

"Ooh, she full-named him."

"Not. Helpful."

"Would you _actually_ consider anything I say if I _tried_ to 'be helpful'?"

"Why is she even _here_?"

" _She_ can speak for herself, _Harry_."

"She is also quite content to just let you two kiddies talk it out."

"Wha—Bellatrix that is not a footstool!"

"For a pureblood, you have bloody awful manners."

"For a wandless half-blood, you have an awful lot of _courage_."

"Bella..."

"Just something for him to _consider_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i challenged myself to use little to no descriptions in the latter segment. buggy already called me out on it being confusin' 
> 
> edited it a little


	11. bagel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original. Gen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **10Nov2018**  
>  prof. buggy: "Spend the next 15 minutes describing someone putting cream cheese on a bagel"  
> me: "why the bagel"
> 
> buggy: "Just cause"
> 
> "okay then"

_Scrip scrape. scrape._

Sunlight meandered down through the clouds, the slightly dirty window, and the slits of the window blinds. It was enough light for her as she held half a bagel in her left hand, her right lowering the butter knife to scoop some more cream cheese out of the stick she had opened.

Half of the bagel was already smeared with the pale condiment, as evenly distributed as she could muster up the effort for. There were clumps caught on the ridges circling its empty center, bits filling potholes, and patches that went uncovered. Such was common with cream cheese's viscosity; she couldn't be bothered to fix it, scraping more on the unadorned half and leaving it be.

She would just have to bite it in such a way that she wouldn't notice.

Her gaze wandered to the clock, calculating how quickly she'd have to eat and finish getting ready, passing over the cream cheese stick, peeled back and unevenly cut. Well it _had been_ a rectangular solid, cut as machine-perfect as most goods were nowadays. _Now_ it had been chipped away by her knife for her bagel, bits of the bread clinging to the knife and transferring to the block. The crumbs were small enough that she couldn't be bothered to clean it. Besides, most people in the house used cream cheese for bagels; they'll be fine.

She blinked, realizing she was just redistributing what was already there as the knife itself held little to no cream cheese.

With a sigh, she dropped the bagel onto the saucer in front of her, careful to keep it from falling onto the granite counter, its clatter barely audible. She picked up the other half.

The sunlight meandered through a bit stronger.

_Scrip scrape. scrape._


	12. emotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~~Original~~. Gen. feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **10Nov2018**  
>  20-minute prompt: "I want y’all to take in everything we discussed and write a scene that has two characters interacting but fill it with EMOTION"  
>    
> me: "...
> 
> "i wrote a lethargic af POV for a reason, but okay, buggy; let's see if i can do this rn"
> 
> buggy: "HAH"
> 
> _20 minutes later_  
>     
> idek where this what

The room was cold and dark. She broke the silence hesitantly, tentative but shattering, "Are you okay?"

She laughed, a harsh jagged sound ripped from her chest that rang out like a shotgun blast. Her voice was just as dark, cutting, "In what world could I _possibly_ be okay?"

She wandered closer, footsteps nearly inaudible. They echoed. "I—"

"Don't you fucking dare," every word sounded as if it was raked over a bed of nails.

She didn't say anything, hovering behind her.

"Don't you fucking _dare_ ," viscous this time, her throat nearly strangling each word, yet they emerged dripping with pain. She wasn't surprised when tears darkened the ground. "I—" she cut off, shoulders shaking.

Slowly, gently, silently she touched her shoulder, and then wrapped an arm—

Abruptly, recklessly, and with a piercing cry, her friend threw herself into her arms. Tears soaked her shirt, fists balled up in it as sobs wracked their frames.

Broken, plaintive, they broke through in between her cries, "How am I supposed to be okay? What am I supposed to do..." She held her grieving friend as tightly as she could. "He promised he wouldn't leave me!" was thrown to the heavens as if it could reach him. "He promised..."

Words failed her.

She held her friend.

Just two little girls in a too-cruel world.

Their parents were supposed to protect them.

The room was cold and dark. Her friend was warm. And alive.

They would get through this.

They had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original notes: "for my snippet, i debated switching the gender of one of the characters bc none of them have names, but have fun decoding pronouns :thumbsup:"
> 
>    
> i like two hours later realized this could be Maya and Riley from Girl Meets World


	13. shovel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original? Gen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prof. buggy: "Write about killing someone with a shovel for the next 15 minutes"
> 
> mom-the-substitute-teacher: "I was gonna somehow work the pet peeve into the shovel killing  
> "that was as far as i got"
> 
> buggy: "WRITE ABOUT KILLING AOMEONE WITH A SHOVEL BECAUSE OF UR PET PEEVE"
> 
> me: "is it just killing with a shovel or the specific pet peeve offender?"
> 
> buggy: "Pet peeve offender has to be killed by shovel"
> 
> * * *
> 
> me: "y'all. i can't write killing scenes."
> 
> mom: "fail to kill  
> "no one said it had to be Successful murder"
> 
> * * *
> 
>  _3 minutes remaining_  
>  me: "um  
> "jfc i think i wrote crack
> 
> "i  
> "don't know what the hell this is"
> 
>  _Time_  
>  "this makes zero sense but i can't salvage it so here"

“So,” said she from the doorway, “why do you have a shovel in your room again?” 

She went to poke said shovel—“It’s not for burying bodies!” but paused to look back up at her gracious host, eyebrow raised. “Well, not always,” the brunette amended, awkwardly holding a black cat.

“I’m filled with confidence,” the visitor drawled, grabbing the shovel. “How’d you say you’re supposed to hold this?”

“Not—”

“Like a baseball bat,” she finished in tandem. “Yes, I remember.” A smile played at her lips.

“Well…” She put the cat down. “Uh,” her hands raised to demonstrate as she spoke, “Well you’re supposed to hold it like with one hand halfway up the—”

“Hey, what’s that?” 

Laura turned around. “What?” Metal chilled her neck.

“How difficult would it be to decapitate someone with a shovel?”

“What the fuck!?” Laura turned back around.

She tripped. The visitor dropped the shovel as if she was burned. Laura’s head landed on it.

“You fucking idiot,” said she to the prone figure on the floor.

Laura’d probably be okay, yeah?

...

Was she breathing?

The cat meowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laura: "YOU KILLED ME?
> 
> "DICK"
> 
> me: "I MADE IT AMBIGUOUS LAURA
> 
> "y'all made me target you >.>"
> 
>  
> 
> Edited 03Dec18: added the word 'hand'


	14. Cissamione Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter. Cissamione.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written: 02Dec18 shortly after midnight
> 
> Prompt: Write a very cissamione christmas for the next 20 minutes

“Miss Granger.” Hermione shut her book, swallowing a sigh and pasting on a smile.

“Madam Malfoy,” she greeted politely. The pureblood matriarch, as her husband was stripped of most of his authority after the war, was resplendent in black and silver winter robes, her light hair pristine as it caught the light.

A frown tugged at her lips. “That won’t do at all,” Hermione said as she drew her wand.

Mrs. Malfoy’s eyes flashed at the motion, stiffening. Hermione slowed.

“May I transfigure your robes, Madam Malfoy?” 

All Hermione received was a curt nod. She stifled her frustration with a reminder that this was Draco’s mum; and, as Madam Malfoy’s clothes transformed to comply with muggle fashion, she was struck with how bizarre her life was.

Five years ago, Hermione would have had an easier time believing one of Trelawney’s absurd predictions rather than her reality; yet here she was, dear friends with Draco Malfoy and about to embark on some holiday shopping with his mother. 

And _that_ had been a shock; not so much the fact that his mother would want to celebrate it with him—after the war, only a fool would doubt what Narcissa Malfoy would do for her son—but that Draco would embrace his friend’s Muggle traditions so much that it would _warrant_ her to do so.

And as Hermione checked over her transfiguration work with snow falling gently around them, she was reminded that Narcissa was one of the Black sisters—Madam Malfoy’s proud chin lifting under her scrutiny—and thus rather beautiful.

Hermione flushed. The weather was getting to her. “Shall we?” Her voice was several octaves too high.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~will be continued at least a little bit as I didn't get to the scene I initially brainstormed~~
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  **10Dec18** Was continued in [ Fractal Perspectives](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16932078/chapters/39783954)


	16. absurd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anime multi-cross: Ranma, Sailor Moon, DB. Gen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **15Dec18**
> 
> prompt: for the next 15 minutes write the most absurd story you can think of, I'm talking some crack roleplay shit but in the most serious, deadpan narrator voice you can muster up
> 
> me: i'm realizing i suck at writing things 'seriously'  
>  **15 minutes later**  
>  i give up

Ranma woke up not knowing what gender he was or if he would be punted out of bed by a panda or a human. He went to go brush his teeth and change out of his pajamas. He was currently male. 

Ranma went down to eat. He assumed that it would be Kasumi in the kitchen and not Akane. If Akane had been in the kitchen, he was not in the mood to willingly ingest poison. 

Ranma did not get the chance to find out who was in the kitchen as a gold cloud streaked by the window. It was chasing a little boy who was screaming. Ranma caught the boy by his tail. The boy had a monkey tail.

Ranma put the boy down on the ground.

“Thanks, mister!” The boy hopped onto the gold cloud.

Ranma made to head back into the house.

“I am Sailor Moon, champion of justice!” shouted a girl’s voice. Ranma looked up to see a blonde teenager perched on the roof of the dojo. She was facing a floating dark-clad ugly being. “On behalf of the moon, I will right wrongs and triumph over evil, and that means you!” From her hands shot out a beam of energy. The ugly being and every wall between it and the ground was obliterated.

That was not Ranma’s fault.

“Whoa!” shouted the boy, him and his cloud zipping up to the blonde Sailor Moon. “Can you teach me how to do that?!” She startled and fell off the roof. Ranma caught her. Sometime during her fall, Sailor Moon had knocked over a bucket of water onto their heads.

Ranma was now a female. Akane stepped out of the house to see what the commotion was.

Akane pulled out a wooden mallet, charging towards Ranma with a cry of, “Ranma, you pervert!”

Ranma wanted breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also, apparently the most absurd thing i can think of right now is a Ranma 1/2 crossed with Dragon Ball crossed with Sailor Moon


	17. getting lunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter. Established Bellamione.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spontaneous-substitute-teacher fjoyo: "just write a scene set in a store where a hermione and bella are getting something to eat"
> 
>  
> 
> **15Dec18**

They had scarcely stepped into the establishment and read the menu before, “This is the _fourth_ restaurant we’ve tried; you are _not allowed_ to veto this one.” 

Bellatrix’s mouth clicked shut. Hermione’s eyes glared at her warningly. Bellatrix huffed, cocking her hip and resting her hand there. “Well, what are _you_ getting?”

Hermione glanced over the menu again. “The pad thai,” she answered.

“The what?” _Was that supposed to be_ understandable _?_

“Do you trust my judgement or not?” Hermione asked hotly. To say that she was frustrated was an understatement. Hermione only had so much time for lunch before she had to go back and finish her project; and what began as a rather sweet endeavor by her girlfriend had turned into... _this_.

“In food?” 

Hermione’s eyes flashed and Bellatrix swallowed a mocking retort. Bellatrix nodded.

“Good, then go grab us a table,” Hermione ordered, eyes scanning the menu and mind rifling through what she knew of Bellatrix’s taste palette.

Bellatrix couldn’t help herself. “You’re _welcome,_ ” she snarked.

Hermione smiled sweetly. “What did you say you’re allergic to again?”

“Wha—” Hermione pushed her out of line and towards the tables.

“Hm,” Hermione hummed, “I’m sure it’ll come to me eventually.”

Blazing brown eyes silenced Bellatrix. She stomped off to find a table, vowing that this was _not_ the last of that conversation.

 _Honestly,_ Hermione thought as she watched a man step out of Bellatrix’s path. _What was so wrong with the previous three restaurants?_ They had all been rated well; Hermione had heard her coworkers speak well of them. She just didn’t understand why Bellatrix was being so contrary. And, yes, Hermione knew this was _Bellatrix_ she was thinking about, but Hermione didn’t expect her to be so contrary about _food_ of all things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can blame Ariana Grande for the pad thai line xP
> 
> Also, I actually kinda had a reason for Bella being particular about food. My fellow "No Good Deed" fans, where you at? The reason I had floatin' in the back of my mind was _definitely_ inspired by (the)Here'sTo.


	18. first meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original? F/F

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from dad the not-so-spontaneous substitute: just take 15 minutes and try to write a conversation where the names of the people aren't mentioned at all, bonus if it is their first meeting.
> 
> **Written: 16Dec18**   
>  **Edited: 19Dec18**

Watching her tea creep along the polished wooden floor, she felt as shattered as the cup. 

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!” She took a moment more to just _watch_ her ruined tea, before lifting her gaze to the clumsy bi—

She took a breath. “It’s fine.” She pasted on a smile and met brown eyes and—

“No, no, please, let me buy you a replacement after I clean this up,” the brunette leaned back as if to dart away for the broom, only to rock back and wring her hands nervously. “Actually, should I place your order first before—”

 _Damn, she was cute._ She brushed a few strands of auburn hair back behind her ear and waved her hand; the barista ceased her worried ramblings as white polish gleamed. “Unfortunately,” she began, “I don’t have the time right now.”

Her jaw dropped. Doe-brown eyes widened as un-painted hands rose to cover her mouth. 

“It’s _fine,”_ she reiterated, stepping past the ceramic shards and spilled tea.

Her hand was warm on the barista’s shoulder. And all she could smell was lavender.

“You can just make it up to me next time.” She smiled, red-painted lips parting for a glimpse of white. Her heels clacked against the floor as she left, the chime of the door ringing her departure. _Her eyes were so green._

The barista could only stand and watch, brown eyes following helplessly until not even her red hair could be spotted amidst the crowd.

“What are you _doing!”_ barked her manager. She jumped and ran for the broom, a continuous stream of, “sorry! I’m sorry!” falling from her mouth.

It was only as the shards _clink clink clinked_ into the trash that she realized.

“I never got her name.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edited bc i'm not trying to annoy mom now :P
> 
> Also it was lowkey inspired by her needing to grab tea before the workshop started


	19. suffering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Supergirl. Alex & Lena.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Written: 16Dec18**   
>  ~~it counts if i stopped writing at midnight, yeah? :P~~

“I never understood why you humans would willingly inflict this upon yourselves.”

Alex looked back at the woman whose brows were drawn together above green eyes. She threw a helmet her way. “Did you want an _explanation_ or an _experience?”_

Angelina easily caught the helmet, her expression smoothing out as she peered down at the black contraption. She looked back up, met brown eyes, and arched a brow.

“Come on,” Alex encouraged, fitting her own helmet on and settling onto her bike. 

Angelina looked down at the helmet once more, remembering shattered ones and shattered hearts. 

“Trust me.”

She peered into brown eyes tinted by the visor. Her earnesty shone through.

 _“You can’t promise that,”_ Angelina had said so long ago.

 _“You won’t even let me_ try _?”_

Angelina sat behind her. “And what if we—”

“Ah bup- _bup,”_ Alex interrupted, turning her head. “Just let yourself _live,_ Lena.” She grinned beneath her visor. “Don’t you know suffering can be fun, angel?”

Angelina “Lena” Luthor scoffed as the engine started. “ _Fallen_ angel, Miss Danvers.”

And the rest of their words were lost to the wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15-minute prompt: 'Suffering can be fun angel'
> 
> was part of a fun game of 'guess who wrote what' ^-^
> 
> and in case anyone wanted to know, I wrote what I did for this prompt bc characters have pre' distinct nicknames in my head and neither Bella nor Hermione had it. And I've been tinkering around with a "Luthors are Fallen Angels" idea so I ran with that
> 
> (my not writing Bellamione helped some people pick me out of the crowd :P)


	20. old idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kim Possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This week's homework will be taking an idea you consider 'old' and re-writing or making a spin off of it."
> 
> **'Finished': Dec 30th 2018**

Sorting through her Nana’s belongings, the brunette cursed her boss under her breath. 

It was _in her contract_ for her rooms to be kept separate from the main chambers—y’know, the ones that had an unfortunate penchant for _exploding_ —but did he listen? _Nooo._ Which was why she was here in a dusty attic trying to replace a few of the things she had lost. Thankfully, for both her sanity and her boss’ limbs, she hadn’t lost anything of value that she couldn’t replace.

With her lifestyle, it paid to keep _copies_ of her truly valuable belongings.

Unfortunately for her sinuses and her boss’ cocoa moo, where she usually got her spares from was not an option at the moment.

Opening a box, she was blinded and choked by the dust that erupted out. Swearing, she stumbled back, waving her hands in front of her face to clear the air. One of her hands collided with something, and her blue streak began anew when she heard it fall and crack.

With a snap of her fingers, a green glow sparked into life, fluttering yet still providing more light than the weak sunlight trickling through dust-clogged windows. 

A box lay on the floor, its inscription veiled by dust but its contents spilling out. _Was that…_

She bent down, picking up the thankfully dustless book and cracking it open with one hand. She brought her other hand closer, green splashing across the pages and illuminating photos of...was that her as a kid?

She shifted her hand to read the inscription below.

_Sheri and…_

The book slipped through numb fingers, crashing to the floor. She was so stunned; the noise didn’t even register.

 _There was no_ possible _way._

* * *

“And you don’t know what tripped the security out here, Wade?” Kim Possible asked from behind the wheel of her car Sadie. Kim was generally not a proponent for calling people while operating a vehicle, but when your car has an AI that can pilot itself, she thought an exception was understandable.

“No idea, Kim,” affirmed the tech guru of Team Possible. “The alert only gave minimal information.” Kim looked at him. “And I haven’t been able to get past its digital security,” he admitted begrudgingly.

That was surprising. “Who even owns this house?” Kim asked as Sadie pulled into the driveway. It was well-maintained but old-fashioned and classy. And apparently had better security than several government agencies.

“Well, it was originally commissioned by an heiress of the Goshen family,” Wade began as Kim stepped out of the car.

Kim remembered that name. “You mean one of the founding families of Go City?” 

“I mean _the_ founding family of Go City,” Wade corrected as Kim moved to the front door.

“What was a Goshen heiress doing out here in Middleton?” Kim mused, hand reaching out.

“Wait, Kim, are you just going to—”

“ _Ding dong,_ ” went the doorbell.

Kim shrugged at Wade. “Why not?” she asked to his incredulous stare. 

He had nothing to say to that.

“If I knew you were going to be so courteous,” drawled a voice that had Kim tensing instinctively as the door swung open, “I wouldn’t have disarmed most of the outer security measures.”

“Shego?” Kim gaped. “ _You_ tripped the security?”

“Thanks for the confidence, Kimmie,” she smirked, knowing that a thief of her caliber really shouldn’t have been tripping _house alarms_ of all things.

Kim noted her relaxed stance and unconsciously mirrored it. “Why _did_ you—”

Shego stepped back and motioned her in. “I needed to have a chat with you, and guess who’s the default responder for alarms here?”

“Wait, Kim—” Kim shut off her Kimmunicator as she stepped inside. Shego raised a brow as Wade’s voice cut off, before shrugging. 

“Why am _I_ the default responder?” She followed Shego deeper into the house, passing by paintings and vases and other trappings of the rich. The inside of the house was basically what she’d expected of a rich heiress; what she _didn’t_ expect was how well Shego fit here without her trademark catsuit or even _green._

“I dunno, Kimmie, aren’t you the _best?”_ she taunted.

Kim only looked at her. Dressed in a white button-down and black slacks, the cut and fit ensured the brunette was as fashionable as ever. Kim kept her face deadpan.

Emerald eyes rolled. “Honestly, Princess, you live like a 20-minute drive away and can fight _me_ to a standstill sometimes.”

Kim arched a brow. “‘Sometimes’?” _In what world?_

“Don’t push it, Princess.”

She smirked.

“Good ‘ol Betty one-eyed is the secondary responder, by the way.”

 _Betty one-eye—_ “Doctor _Director?”_ Shego smirked. “Why is she—”

“Ah bub-bup,” Shego interrupted as they entered a formal sitting room. “You can puzzle _that_ out on your own time.” Dropping into an armchair, she gestured for Kim to take the one across from her.

Kim sank into the very expensive armchair and watched as Shego leaned forward, opening the book on the coffee table and spinning it towards her.

“Recognize a few faces, Kimmie?”

Kim’s face paled. “No _way.”_

Shego nodded. “My reaction exactly.” She leaned forward. “How’s your Nerdlinger at verifying undoctored photos?”

Kim opened the connection back up. “Wade.”

“Kim, you agreed that without Ron you’d—”

“ _Wade._ ” She angled the camera towards the photo book.

“What.”

“Can you check that it’s not doctored?” she asked as he began typing furiously.

“On it, Kim, but preliminary tests say it’s authentic.” Wade looked up from his printouts. “How…?”

Kim looked back up to her host. “I’m hoping _you_ might have an answer to that.”

Shego sighed, leaning back in the chair. “Buckle up, Cupcake.” Lacing her fingers, she breathed and began.

“As a kid, I used to spend my summers here with my Nana. And during one of those summers, a young couple visited with their newborn daughter…”

Emerald eyes traced the photo’s caption: _Sheri and Kimmie-Cub._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (tfw you don't finish the hw you assigned 😬)
> 
> The old idea was that kid!Shego meets baby!Kim and that’s how she got the nickname Kimmie-Cub. But I didn't get to the actual Story that happened years hence, oop.


	21. accents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My Little Pony. Gen. Dialogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prof. buggy: "The homework is to write a conversation but really focus on their accents n shit ya feel"
> 
> **Written: 29Dec2018**
> 
> straight-up dialogue incoming

“It just don’t sit right with me. Ah reckon we owe Twilight an apology.”

“I know what you mean! It’s like that feeling when you eat too much of ingredients that should _not_ go together: like mphmph—”

“Uh, I’d rather not know, Pinkie. Thanks.”

“Mmkie dmkie lmkie!”

“Um, Rainbow, maybe you should let her breathe…”

“Oh yeah.”

“At any rate, darlings, Applejack is right: we owe Twilight an apology.”

“Well it’s not like she _helped_ her case—”

“Rainbow.”

“What? I’m just sayin—Oh, hi, Twilight.”

“You aren’t lookin’ too great, sugarcube. What’s got ya in such a huff?”

“Princess Luna’s asked us to stay the night. She’s concerned.”

“‘Concerned’? Whatever do you mean _concerned?”_

“Do I need to pull out my party cannon?!”

“Forget the _cannon!_ Are we going to get to kick butt again?”

“Oh, I hope there’s no more fighting…”

“Slow down there, Rainbow. We mighta put up a good fight, but don’t you forget—”

“Yes, yes, it was Princess Cadance and Captain Shining Armor, but let’s refocus for a moment, shall we? Twilight, what do you think this all _means?”_

“...I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> possible dialogue for an MLP fic I've had percolating in the back of my mind. i half-assed this homework


	22. andromeda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fjoyo the other teacher: "if any of you want to do the hw for this week, try to write a fic that stars Andromeda as a main character"
> 
> me: "that's the hw for this week??? I GET TO WRITE THE IDEA THAT'S BEEN KNOCKIN' AROUND IN THE BACK OF MY BRAIN"
> 
> warning: _ow/ouch_ feels incoming possibly?

She was glad it wasn’t a clock. It was scarcely bearable as is, but add an incessant ticking sound; and she couldn’t _really_ be blamed for going insane. Not like—

Thankfully it wasn’t a clock. 

It _used_ to represent where they were: home, hospital, Ministry, Hogwarts, et cetera; the stars laid over a map. And then Nymphadora had gotten her Apparition license.

_“You are fortunate none of us are epileptic, Nymphadora!”_

__

__

_“Aw, c’mon, mum; s’all in good fun. And you can’t tell me it didn’t look_ cool!”

Now they simply twinkled against the pitch of night, the four stars remaining.

And then one winked out.

And her grandson lost his father.

She remembered meeting him, knowing immediately he was a noble soul, a good man. He waded through the cruelty creatures were dealt; yet he was still capable of, and still chose to _be_ kind. 

She was glad her daughter had found love even in this war. 

But a noble Gryffindor? She remembered many of them. Her eyes traced their names on stone.

And yet another she would trace and mourn.

But for now, she simply sat and waited. Useless. 

There were two—

Her breath caught and she swiped her wand off the table, rushing to the corner of the room, a diagnostic spell on her lips and—his chest rose and fell in sleep. 

She cast the diagnostic anyway, even though she _knew_ her grandson was in good health, and it was just due to the spell’s temperamental nature that his star disappeared. She had had to modify her family’s traditional tracking spell—obviously, as she had married a muggleborn and her daughter had married a ‘creature.’ A few swishes of her wand and little Teddy’s star shone once more.

She wandered back over to her seat, laying her wand carefully upon the table. She was far too tense to trust holding it and not burning the house down. But before she sat, her eyes locked on the stars.

Her daughter’s star had never fallen, not once since she had come home from the hospital holding her little bundle of joy. She remembered how tired she was still even after being discharged, how warm her baby was in her arms, how full her heart felt with Ted’s hand on her shoulder, and how brightly the three stars shone.

A star fell.

She dimly realized she must have too. She couldn’t feel the ache of her knees as they struck the unforgiving floor. Couldn’t hear her breaths rattling in her chest. Couldn’t feel her empty arms. Couldn’t pull her eyes away from where her star _should_ be— _it was always there why wasn’t it there_ —

For a moment, she remembered all the gods her birth family had taught her. And rage suffused her being as she cursed every single one.

And then the feeling was gone and she was just drained and empty.

How many more would she outlive?

Regulus was so young; Sirius was gone before he could live again; Ted was…

She struggled to breathe.

Remus too. And now her _daughter?_

She ought to have been crying, she thought. But no tears welled out of dark brown eyes.

How much more would this war _take_ from her?

Her eyes were still trained on where her star _should_ be. But now there were three stars.

She knew it wasn’t Nymphadora’s: wrong place, wrong color, wrong vibrancy. But whose—

If her eyes hadn’t been clear of tears, if she hadn’t been so numb—she might not have noticed the connection. 

But she did.

And she knew _exactly_ what it was even as her heart felt like it was being stabbed because it was one thing to know your husband and daughter were killed, and another thing entirely to know—

Her birth family was cruel. Often needlessly so. They disowned her after she married Ted, but it was a conditional disownment. She would _never_ willingly fulfill the conditions to regain her rights and they _knew it._

__

__

They couldn’t possibly have foreseen this.

So she moved far away from her vulnerable grandson, shielded behind as many spells as she could muster; and she _focused_ on the all-too-familiar connection, on her authority as the highest ranking Black, and sent an order that she wished she could give to her daughter _but it was too late always too late_ —

**_Come home._ **

How much more would this war take from her? Her hands shook with remembered blood and failures. But she stood tall, wand at the ready as a figure popped into existence.

She was Andromeda Black and if she had anything to say about it, _none at all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asdfjkl i Really want/will probably continue this eventually. This is my Black-Sisters-Post-War fic idea. undecided pairing. undecided Lot of things. possibly may have Some inspiration from mom's scandal fic 😅
> 
>  
> 
> **Idea first gained 04Nov2018**


	23. first date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This week’s challenge: bellamiones first date"

You were Bellatrix _fucking_ Black.

“Bella, you’re going to wear a hole in the floor.”

You shot your sister a glare but did not stop your pacing.

You were Bellatrix Black: pureblood heiress, dueling prodigy, and the brightest witch of your age. And you were far too nervous.

“Well,” your sister stood up, brushing down her robes as she said, “you have your attire selected for tomorrow, so I shall—”

“Don’t go!” 

You both stilled at your outburst. Fuck, why were you so _nervous?_

Brown eyes searched your own as your hands worried your wand. Andy, carefully, took measured steps closer to you. Her hands covered yours, warm and steady. They were tanner, smoother, contrasting your own...pale and scarred and—

“I was nervous for my first date as well,” she admitted, your eyes darting back up to her face just in time to catch her lips quirking. She was staring out the window. This close you could see her lashes and smell her perfume. She still smelled the same.

You, this was the closest you’ve been to her since that falling out. 

You weren’t sure why—no, you _were_ sure: you had rationalized it away as Andy having experience dating a muggleborn, but maybe...maybe a part of you just wanted to see if she still loved you— _could_ love you, with everything you’ve done.

You had gone through so much of your life not knowing—not _truly_ knowing—love, and now…

You winced, eyes squinting as the sun peeked through the clouds and haloed Andy’s hair. 

“I ended up overdressed; the weather was dismal, and we were both too nervous to speak,” Andy continued. You blinked. Your eyes finally focusing. Why the bloody hell was she _smiling?_

“Sounds terrible.”

Her head turned, brown eyes sparkling as they caught yours. “Oh, it absolutely was.” 

You did _not_ understand your sister.

She laughed at the befuddlement that was doubtless clear on your face. “It was a terrible first date, but it wasn’t our last.” You didn’t _feel_ like the brightest witch right then; was any of this supposed to make sense? “Everything that made him ask and everything that made me accept, all those things still held: we were still the same people, and nothing we learned on that date made either of us any less appealing to the other.” She was smiling so easily, so kindly. “So we went on another date, which thankfully _wasn’t_ so abysmal, and...” she paused, her smile dimming.

You felt like a proper arse, right then. But you were never one for _inaction,_ so you...you shifted your grip, tightening a hand around Andy’s. Her eyes brightened, just a bit; but they were still lighter than you could fathom your own eyes being if...

Her soft voice diverted your thoughts. “And we had a wonderful life together,” she finished, eyes on your linked hands. You didn’t know the first thing about comforting people—you had just _done_ it—but how did _you_...how could she stand to _hold_ your bloodsoaked hands, much less find _comfort_ in them?

Her eyes met yours and they were so warm and loving and you didn’t _understand._

“You’ll be _fine,_ Bella. You and Hermione can survive a terrible first date, and there’s nothing stopping this date from being _wonderful.”_

You supposed you didn’t _have_ to understand.

You just believed.

 

And she was right.

 

 

 

But it would be a cold day in hell before you admitted that to her.

 

 

It was okay though. 

 

As Andy toasted you at your reception, your hand entwined with Hermione’s, your eyes meeting with suspiciously-shiny brown eyes crinkling above a warm, beaming smile...

You thought she may already know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got the idea in 2nd POV and then started writing in past, so i just rolled with it 🤷
> 
> 08Jul19: edited n added the ending


	24. ceremony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bellamione snippet

She didn’t even manage to get a word out.

“No.”

It didn’t take long at all for confusion to turn to pain. 

She thought it was just nerves. _Everyone_ thought—had been waiting for—one of them to pop the question. They had been doing fine, hadn’t they? Great, really. Going steady for years. Whilst living together. It was just a matter of making it official.

Or it should have been. 

Her vision blurred.

“Fuck,” she heard dimly over the ringing in her ears. There was a thud, and then pale hands covered her own, together cradling the velvet box that had held her dreams.

Her legs were numb. Bellatrix didn’t care as she stood and yanked Hermione up with her.

Outrage flushed the agony from her veins. She blinked away tears to glare at this _fucking asshole._

“Don’t kneel to me,” Bellatrix demanded as if she could spit fire.

What the bloody hell was she on about _now?_

The dark witch stepped closer, black eyes burning. “We stand together,” she said with fervor, etching her words into permanence, “or we fall together.” One of her hands let go of Hermione’s, delving into a pocket, and Hermione gasped. Bellatrix’s other hand clasped one of Hermione’s. “Till death do us part.” The red velvet box in her hand popped open, matched by the black velvet box in Hermione’s. 

“You _utter ass,”_ gasped Hermione as tears fell down her face once more. Bellatrix nearly laughed at her, lips curling. Hermione did laugh. Or sob. “You could have said _anything_ else besides _no!”_

“You hadn't asked the question yet,” Bellatrix pointed out. “I was protesting your kneeling—”

“It’s tradition!” Bella's lips twitched. Hermione whacked her. 

Bellatrix’s laugh rang out, and Hermione couldn’t help smiling. “Boring,” Bella sing-songed, and then...their hands unclasped, Bella holding hers as a ring levitated out— _showoff_ —and slid onto her finger. 

It was perfect. And Hermione nearly sobbed again.

“Besides,” Bella began, as she kissed her hand, eyes outshining all the stars in the sky, “when have we ever stood on ceremony?” Red lips parted in a roguish smirk.

Hermione kissed it off her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me @Buggy: I DID IT, YOU LOVABLE TWIT
> 
> prompt by buggy.  
> (my discord roles were being held hostage >.>)


	25. we did it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter. Bellamione.

“We did it,” fell from her lips tremulously, like the ash drifting around them; but where one was a slave to the wind, her words were shackled by a different master: the world.

They said it was impossible.

They called them mad.

How could _they_ change the world? Everyone believed they couldn’t.

Bellatrix hoped they choked on their words as her lips curled and her eyes gleamed.

They did it.

They actually—

She gasped.

Or tried to.

Hermione looked to her side and—

Brown eyes widened in shock.

“Don’t look at me like that, Granger,” Bellatrix protested, her lips bright and her teeth stained. She coughed.

_Blood._

Hermione immediately began casting diagnostic spells and—this made no sense! How could her lungs—it was like—

She froze, a palpable chill raising the hairs on her arms and extinguishing her emotions, every single one snuffed out like a candle before a mighty wind. Every single one gone. Except dread.

Was this what that seer had meant by price?

Hermione looked into black eyes, only—

The realization struck her like lightning. _She’d already known._

Abruptly, Hermione was _furious._

“How _could_ you!?”’ she cried. If she had only known, she wouldn’t—well they _had_ to, but, she could have found another way!

“There was no other way, Hermione.” Her voice was surprisingly steady for a woman who was _dying._ As were her hands, as they wrapped around her own. She was so pale. A part of Hermione wondered how much paler she would be in death. The rest of Hermione’s being rebelled at the very thought.

It wasn’t enough.

They were the brightest witches of their respective ages, and there was _nothing_ they could do.

Hermione could only watch helplessly.

They had succeeded in changing the world.

But the cost…

Black eyes so impossibly bright…

Hermione watched their light leave.

And with them, her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15-minute write with editing (bless [soft_bellatrix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soft_bellatrix/pseuds/soft_bellatrix%22))


	26. wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Game Challenge #2.  
> HP. Bellamione. Bella third-past POV

“You _know_ this is the only way,” she coaxed—well, _her_ version of coaxing, anyway—“what with your,” a beat of hesitation, “discharge from the service—”

“They barred me from any work in or _related to_ that field,” Bella corrected. Cissa could be as polite as she wanted about it; Bella was having none of it.

Cissa went on as if there hadn’t been a bitter Bella barb, “we have to make the best out of an unexpected situation.”

Bella rolled her eyes. “How exactly do you plan on doing _that?”_ She was doubtful and derisive and not at all pouting. Bella was supposed to be a soldier, not a leader; but with that path barred to her, the eldest Black _had_ to be the heir. Which...was pretty much an utter disaster.

Andromeda had the temperament for it, albeit a bit too reactive; but when push came to shove, she could do what needed to be done, with the support and love of the people. Cissa was the most adept at playing the field, all while garnering people’s respect, if not their adoration as Andromeda would. Bella did nothing but inspire fear—oh, she was very capable of doing what needed to be done; how unfortunate that what she considered _necessary_ didn’t often align with what others did.

Which was why she was never supposed to be the one with the crown: she was the sword, the blood-soaked dagger, the ravenous flame. To lead and inspire and all that _blegh_ was not _her._

If Andy and Cissy thought they could get her to become a passable leader...well perhaps madness _was_ genetic.

“What.”

Or perhaps Bella had addled hearing. Or perception. Or whatever the fuck because there was no way in hell—

“A leader is a servant to the people—”

“You want me to work as a _waitress?!”_

Cissa had the foresight to prevent their conversation from being overheard, though Bella’s outburst certainly strained those measures. 

It was a decent enough establishment: Bella hadn’t wanted to torch half the decorations and she actually ate some of her food without wanting to have a motivational _chat_ with the chef. It would be a shame if a Black was publicly upset here; Bella gave it a week before they were forced to close down. But that was moot because of Cissa. Maybe Bella would remember to thank her for it after this was all done. When all those things people told her were _bad_ and _you shouldn’t do_ weren’t so very tempting even in front of her beloved sister. Yes, after those thoughts passed and all.

Probably not.

Cissa merely looked at her, and Bella was reminded to ‘control herself’, so she breathed and focused on getting out of her head, with its maelstrom of chaos and anger and indignation—

_Breathe._

“What would you like?” Bella overheard.

“A loving wife.”

There was nary a beat missed. “I meant for dinner.”

She was calm. “You really expect me to do _that?”_ she waved in the general direction of the poor employee attending to some desperate sap, her eyes flashing thunderously; disdain dripped from her voice as her lips pulled into a grimace. _Totally_ calm.

“Well…” Cissa’s hesitance boded ill for Bella. Narcissa acted deliberately but subtly, like the relentless push of a glacier; she didn’t do hesitance. Not since she was a teenager, but teenagers were just a mess in general and she loved her, so Bella didn’t hold it against her; teasing was just part of her duty as an older sibling. Unfortunately this was not embarrassment fodder, and Bellatrix didn’t have the patience to wait for Cissa to set up _exactly_ how she’d wanted to phrase things; so she pushed.

“What?” broke the silence.

“This isn’t the type of establishment you’ll be working in, no…”

* * *

Bella found herself following behind Andromeda, her feet falling heavier as she absolutely did _not_ stomp; that would be _unbecoming_ and _childish. Oh no._

She was passed from one sister to another as if she was some invalid, she thought grumpily. Bella pointedly did not think of what she had done to land herself and her family in this situation.

“How do even know of this place?” Bella asked to fill the silence and push out her thoughts.

Andromeda the ever-kind slowed her pace a tad, glancing over her shoulder with eyes and voice warm and welcoming. “Nymphadora recommended it.” 

A shiver raced down Bellatrix’s spine. It was more a coin toss with Andy, the chances she would royally mess with Bella as siblings are wont to do; her niece on the other hand…

Well, if she wasn’t certain _before_ that she was fucked ten ways to Friday…

Bellatrix didn’t bother to pay attention when Andromeda stopped to talk to some bushy-haired woman in an unassuming suit. Perhaps she should have when Andromeda turned to leave. Leaving Bella in her care.

Well, that’s just _dandy:_ her sisters trusted some upstart to mind her, and she didn’t know—there just wasn’t enough information. She was floundering blind. It was infuriating, and Bellatrix glared at the brunette who remained.

She was rather unruffled by Bella’s ire, which did nothing to improve her tempestuous mood. “How much have they explained to you?”

If she thought Bella was in any mood to be reasonable and cooperative… “Andy didn’t think to tell you?” Bella simpered mockingly. 

_That_ got a reaction as her eyes flashed. 

_Good,_ Bella preened, now they were _both_ mad. 

The girl shuttered the emotion away all too quickly for Bella’s tastes, her lips curling upwards in a slight, pleasant smile. “Do you know who I am?”

Bella could have been petulant and asked if _she_ knew who _Bella_ was, as if there was any doubt; unlike this upstart, Bella doubted there were many people in the country who _didn’t_ know who she was. Or Bella could have cut into her about how she wasn’t important enough to know—but before she could do any of that, the girl continued.

“Or did Andy not think to tell you?” Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth as Bella’s mind went silent. She gaped at the _nerve_ before her maelstrom erupted anew with increased fervor.

 _How_ dare—

The brunette was walking away, from _her._ They weren’t done here!

The upstart paused in the doorway. “I’m the manager.”

Bellatrix could only stare.

_Well, fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "What can I get you?" "A loving wife." "I mean for dinner."
> 
> this was silly. i blame AnonymousRabbit's Re:Incarnation quest on SV for this execution of the idea. also it's very rough and scattered. oops


	27. horror movies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HP. Domestic Bellamione with brat.

Perhaps it was fortunate they were too tired for certain...activities.

They had been relaxing in bed, waiting to enter Morpheus’ realm but in no rush to leave the waking, when they heard rapid, light thuds. It was a familiar sound to the two of them.

And then their door burst open, and they couldn’t help stiffening as the abrupt sound shattered the silent night. But they weren’t _quite alarmed_ until a small form _dove_ in, burrowing beneath the blankets. She was trembling.

Bella sat up in bed, a lazy flick of her hand lighting one of the lamps. Hermione carefully wrapped her arms around their daughter, sitting up and cradling her in her lap. 

“Pera…” Hermione began softly, feeling tears seep into her top. “Can you tell Mum what’s wrong?”

She shook like a leaf. And then Bella was there, her magic thrumming under her skin as she rubbed circles into Pera’s back.

Enveloped in the warm arms of her Mum and feeling the unwavering thrum of her Mama’s magic, Pera calmed.

“...I don’t want to be eaten,” their daughter said eventually.

What. 

Hermione and Bella locked eyes above Pera’s head. Neither of them knew what was—

“They were in a cabin and there was this thing and—” Pera rambled.

It clicked for one of them.

“Pera…” Hermione began. “Were you watching with Teddy?”

Pera went silent.

Hermione swallowed a sigh.

Their home was the only one to have a working television. It was a pain to do, but they were never ones to back down from a challenge. Once overcome—was there any doubt?—the aspect keeping it from becoming a common feature was the _maintenance_. It was an interesting magic control exercise for them; for others, it was more of an armed bomb. The explosion _probably_ wouldn’t be that big, but it wasn’t worth the chances. Thus, their home hosted Muggle Movie Night. Teddy was over with some of his friends for a sleepover. And she had heard they had been planning to watch horror movies.

There was a reason Pera was supposed to be asleep. Hermione hesitated. Pera didn’t need a _lecture_ ; she needed—

“Why are you scared,” her wife didn’t hesitate to not-ask.

Pera lifted her head, eyes peeking out towards her mama. Bella’s tone all-but demanded attention, and her eyes blazed.

“Do you really think I would let a simple _monster_ harm you?” 

A rush of fondness and exasperation washed over Hermione. 

Bellatrix’s free hand rose, a nebula of magic coalescing above it, sparks arcing through the miniature tempest.

Her hand clenched, her mouth spreading into a grin.

“I’m scarier than anything that could go bump in the night.” And then she softened. “And I love you.” She looked away. “So you have nothing to fear.”

Hermione shook her head, a smile playing at her lips. Only her wife…

But it worked, and she felt the last vestiges of tension leave her daughter. Pera yawned.

“Did you want to sleep with us tonight, Pera?” Hermione asked.

Pera simply clung to her tighter. Bella huffed a not-laugh, and then there was a hand groping blindly, until it was holding Bella’s.

That was a yes.

Hermione met Bella’s eyes and smiled. Her wife rolled her eyes, and with a flick of her wrist, the lights went out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Challenge #3: Horror movies


	28. truth or dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HP. Femslash. Steamier than most of my stuff, I think?

“This feels like a dream,” Hermione said aloud to the mist obscuring her vision. She was sitting with her legs crossed but felt no discomfort. She didn’t feel much of anything, really; it was all vague, ephemeral. She couldn’t remember exactly how she had gotten here, but there was no alarm. It simply was.

“Aw, I don’t warrant a nightmare?” She felt no surprise at that voice.

“You can’t hurt me here.” She _knew_ that, even as the mist dissipated enough to see the woman who had laughed at her screams, had carved open her arm, had been why Hermione woke up countless nights screaming her throat raw...

“Certainly not with all of us here as well.” There, her shoulders relaxed minutely as _comfort_ washed over her. And she felt more _aware_ as the mist in front of her blew apart.

There were six of them, Hermione included, sitting in a loose circle on what was presumably the ground, as it and their surroundings were obscured by the mist. Hermione sat between Nymphadora Tonks and Minerva McGonagall, and was glad for it: with McGonagall’s stalwart presence and Tonks’ effervescent cheer, she felt _safe._

Completing the circle were the Black sisters: Andromeda sat on the other side of McGonagall, Narcissa besides Tonks, and right across from Hermione was the star of her terrors.

Bellatrix Lestrange grinned as Hermione was caught by her gaze.

There was a clink, and Bellatrix broke away to look down, her brow furrowing. Hermione followed her gaze to, an empty bottle lying on its side? In the center of a circle of people sitting on the ground.

Hermione’s face went incandescent, and she nearly missed the glowing letters popping into view in front of each of them.

“What the bloody hell does ‘truth or dare’ mean?” Bellatrix asked.

“It’s a muggle game.” Hermione willed her blush away; she much preferred truth or dare to the other game her mind had went to open seeing the bottle. “You can pick either ‘truth’ or ‘dare,’” Hermione began to explain.

“I would never have guessed,” Bellatrix mocked. The letters in front of her suddenly sparked, and she yelped before glowering at the letters, her hand grasping at a wand that was not there. Actually, Hermione didn’t have a wand either. 

The letters in front of Hermione bobbed, and she blinked. “If you pick truth, you are required to answer one question truthfully; if you pick dare, you have to fulfill a task or action that you are given.”

“And we are expected to play that,” McGonagall observed, her glasses reflecting the light from the words, which bobbed after she asked. 

Come to think of it, Hermione could see everyone clearly, despite not seeing a light source. Perhaps the fog was the light source? 

“ _Any_ dare?” asked Bellatrix, a gleam in her eye.

She pouted as more letters appeared, clearly spelling out, _“No killing, maiming, groping, or sexual intercourse.”_ Hermione went scarlet. _Why were those last two even included?!_

“So who goes first?” Tonks asked, mercifully changing the subject.

The words in front of everyone blinked out, besides one. Narcissa was unperturbed as everyone looked towards her.

Hermione glanced back down at the bottle, and indeed it was pointing towards the Malfoy matriarch.

The words in front of her shifted back and formed an arrow pointing down at the bottle.

“You need to spin it,” Hermione said. She flushed as Narcissa’s eyes caught hers. Perhaps it was obvious what she was meant to do, but Hermione couldn’t help explaining.

Narcissa leaned forward and spun the bottle.

It landed on McGonagall.

Emerald met blue. “Truth or dare?”

McGonagall hesitated, and then, “Dare.”

“I dare you to wear your hair down, remove any and all glamours, and if you would still be decent, remove your teaching robes.”

Hermione considered it a rather tame dare, but after McGonagall had fulfilled it, Hermione realized what had actually happened: Narcissa had stripped away some of the armor McGonagall habitually wore. Outside of her bun, her hair fell long and lustrous, a rich ebony waterfall. Beneath her teaching robes were a trim waist, toned limbs, and surprising curves. And glamours? Hermione never realized how _young_ McGonagall was.

Narcissa just made it impossible to forget there was a woman behind the professor.

And Hermione realized she was playing Truth or Dare with three Slytherins _and_ her former Head of House.

Minerva cleared her throat and brusquely spun the bottle, ignoring the slightest upturn of Narcissa’s lips.

It landed on Andromeda.

“Truth or dare,” Minerva didn’t _quite_ ask. Hermione blinked. There was a frostiness to her voice, and Hermione wasn’t sure if it was because of her current state or that she was talking to Andromeda. She wasn’t aware of any enmity between them, but she didn’t really know either of them well at all, personally.

“Truth.”

“Do you know of any time that magically-recreated catnip was used after I was exposed to it?”

What. Andromeda looked stunned while Bellatrix nearly laughed aloud. Minerva was impassive, an ebony brow arching. Even Narcissa’s mask cracked, eyes widening and cheeks tinting slightly. Tonks looked about how Hermione felt: utterly discombobulated and flustered.

“No,” Andromeda said. Well that one-word answer _technically_ satisfied the one question, but also proved that Andromeda had recreated catnip and used it on Minerva at some point.

Andromeda spun the bottle, and Hermione felt relief that—it wasn’t her—it was Tonks, Andromeda’s daughter.

In contrast, Tonks looked like a deer in headlights. 

“Truth or dare, dear?”

She hesitated. “Dare.”

“I dare you to imitate, to the best of your abilities, the physical appearance of one of us here.”

Tonks’ eyes widened before she looked down.

Hermione _nearly_ regretted watching Tonks.

“Like mother like daughter, I suppose,” Bellatrix quipped, not impressed by there suddenly being two of her sister. Hermione could not claim the same, suddenly sitting beside a woman who bore a remarkable resemblance to Bellatrix, not to mention the transformation was not at all simultaneous: Tonks, as Hermione knew her, melted away into a mirror of Andromeda. It reminded Hermione of Polyjuice potion, but smoother, with less bubbling and sudden spurts. Tonks didn’t meet their eyes.

“I see you still have some of your wits about you,” Narcissa noted, “in spite of some of your _choice_ decisions.”

Tonks blinked and tilted her head while the real Andromeda merely smiled. “You always were careful.”

There were layers to the Black sisters’ interactions that Hermione felt were better left veiled.

Tonks seemed to have the same opinion. “Well, it’s my turn now, then?” Her voice was the same as ever, but it was _disorienting_ hearing it come from Andromeda’s lips, and Hermione didn’t know Tonks was so adept at Transfiguration to match _clothes_ as well. Tonks leaned forward and with a deft flick, the bottle spun. She absentmindedly brushed her curls back, and Hermione was struck that it was so natural for Tonks. _How often has she had hair like that?_ a part of Hermione wondered.

“Don’t forget I love you, Nymphadora.” Tonks’ head snapped up, meeting her mother’s eyes for the first time since transforming. Why did Tonks look _guilty?_ Her gaze dropped back down.

Tonks winced, and Hermione’s gaze moved—had she been _staring?_ How mortifying—to the bottle which had landed…

Oh.

Bellatrix’s eyes gleamed, the bottle pointing right at the lounging witch.

“Uh,” Hermione watched Tonks swallow; she got the appearance right, but it was blindingly obvious that the mannerisms, mostly, were pure Tonks. “Truth or dare?”

“Not going to call me Auntie?” Bellatrix laughed, a short bray almost reminiscent of the cackles that haunted Hermione. Bellatrix was not given an appreciable reaction, so she shrugged and said, “Truth.”

Huh. Andromeda and Narcissa didn’t seem surprised, but looking around, everyone else seemed to be. McGonagall hid her surprise fairly quickly, but Hermione caught it. And Tonks wore hers blatantly.

And then Tonks smiled. “Pick three of us to fuck, marry, or kill.”

What.

“Two of the people here are my sisters—”

“You’re purebloods—”

 _“Nymphadora,”_ Andromeda warned.

Tonks didn’t miss a beat. “You’re tellin’ me you were never tempted by sororicide?” Hermione had a feeling that wasn’t what she was going to say before, and gratitude welled up in her for Andromeda; Hermione really was blushing too much as is.

“Fine.” Bella rolled her eyes. “Kill Andy—”

“Rude,” commented Andromeda. Narcissa was unphased. They must have had an _interesting_ childhood.

“Fuck McGonagall—” Minerva blinked rapidly, her black hair framing the blush suffusing her skin before ebony brows pulled low, emerald eyes narrowing in disapproval. Bellatrix grinned impishly.

And then her eyes cut to Hermione’s for but a moment, and she waved her hand dismissively, looking away from them all. “And marry the muddie.”

What. 

Hermione vaguely realized her jaw had dropped, and she saw in her periphery that Andromeda and Narcissa hadn’t expected that either.

And then the bottle was spun. Bellatrix spun it such that it almost hit someone in the circle before it was inexplicably pulled back to the center as if the ground had become a sink. Bellatrix was frowning. Had she been _testing_ that?

The bottle landed on Narcissa, and Bellatrix _beamed._ Narcissa sighed. 

“Truth or dare, Cissy!” Bellatrix all-but bounced in place.

“Dare,” said the youngest of the Black sisters to the eldest.

Bellatrix looked like the cat that had caught the canary. 

“I dare you to non-chastely kiss the person here most likely to make you scream in ecstasy.” 

Narcissa’s face was carefully blank as she stood up, crossed the circle, and kneeled, leaning forward to take Minerva’s chin in her hand. She shifted fine black strands aside and tilted her head, kissing her ear. Minerva flushed, and Hermione almost heard a rumble in her chest—a _purr?!_

Bellatrix clapped, laughing.

Narcissa stood back up and elegantly retook her spot in the circle.

Then she spun the bottle.

It was official: Hermione was in a mad house.

And the bottle landed on her.

Belying her mien, Narcissa’s eyes were _smoldering._ “Truth or dare, Miss Granger.”

After _that_ dare, could she pick anything else? “Truth.”

“Who is the person here most likely to make you scream in ecstasy?” 

Hermione blamed Bellatrix. “Bellatrix.”

What.

Did _she_ say that?! 

Five pairs of eyes looked at her in surprise and confusion.

Yup, she said that.

_Why?!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who tf submitted truth or dare and why did y'all vote for it wut

**Author's Note:**

> As with all of my works, feedback and constructive criticism are welcome.


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